Not strange in that I am slightly lost or even that I question my growth as a human being, but strange in the fact that my memory is engrained with images, smells, thoughts of another life. Sometimes it is horrifically tough to snap myself out, back into the life of attempted responsibility I live in the US.
Nights like tonight, that is something very hard to do.
The sun…
…reminds me of…
… and a small mediocre Thai restaurant (Thai Ocean, don’t go there) pulls me back to this little nook-in-the-wall place in Tai Koo Shing, Hong Kong that Steve, Enan (Steve's X/roomate/my friend), Tina(bestfriend), - the three major characters in my life abroad – and I would hit up every Saturday morning for young coconuts and curries.
I try to watch a movie (pic below). But scenes from beautiful Beirut bring me back to the curb side of Ho Chi Minh.
Is Bourdain Illness deadly? Nope. But it is dumbfounding-ly infectious.
so long as it leads u back to me, or closer to me... im all for the infection.
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